Proof
by Helix Spencer
Summary: When Tony Stark intercepts a signal that isn't from Earth, he finds himself racing against time to warn Washington about their incoming extraterrestrial visitors. But when they turn hostile, he's forced to team up with new allies, distant colleagues, and...old enemies. ID4 events take place Post IM2. Events of Independence: Day Resurgence NOT acknowledged. Enjoy! (:
1. Chapter 1: Intercept

**A/N: Hey guys! I've been sitting on this plot for a few years. At one point I was super-obsessed with it (because Iron Man swooping in to save a completely different movie's butt was just wildly appealing), fell out of interest, and then back into interest. I was horrified with what I read-so I overhauled it massively, and I will probably continue to do so forever.**

 **Feel free to leave a review or comment if you have any questions, or just wanna share your opinion about what you think. Thanks, and enjoy! (:**

 **XOXO, Helix.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Iron Man or Independence Day.**

* * *

Okay.

As a superhero, it was only natural and right to expect to see some weird stuff. It was basically in the fine print.

I mean...I didn't anticipate anything more extreme than Hammer's stupid androids. At the very least, some bank-robberies or collapsed train bridges.

Of course, I'm not stupid, either. I figured something was bound to happen. It was too quiet. Nothing happened after Flushing. Everyone was suddenly so peaceful, and sure, it was unsettling, but if I had known what was coming, I wouldn't've complained. Not once.

But that was before the peace was interrupted.

Maybe even for good.

You know what they say, when something seems too good to be true, it usually is? They're completely right...whoever 'they' are.

I was the one who proved it.

* * *

 **3:18 p.m., July the 1st**

 **Santa Monica, California**

Mark V was destroyed.

To paraphrase the potential legal battle, I'd passed out in the middle of verbally confirming whether or not to let Jarvis autopilot the Suit the rest of the way home after a particularly nasty recent mission. I missed the mansion by more than ten miles and crash-landed in a strip mall. I didn't remember a thing, but there apparently there was enough structural damage that I couldn't possibly pass it off as a weather balloon or swamp gas.

It was actually giving me a headache.

Overall, I'd been in a sort of bored, irritable haze for a while, but since Pepper left for a conference in Vegas two days ago...it probably got about ten thousand times worse.

When I first brought it up to Happy (because he wasn't quite as good a boxer as he was a therapist) he claimed it was just a creative slump, but the actual monotony (minus Pepper) was killing me a whole lot quicker than Palladium poisoning could have ever hoped to. He'd laughed, too. Hard. Then he suggested that I buy him a new flat-screen if I didn't have anything better to do.

(The best he was going to get was an Iron Man bumper sticker for the Bentley-not that that would do anything for security, ha-ha.)

In fact, I actually thought that Pepper was making things worse. I really did. I was very anxious not to have her glued to my hip now, especially after Vanko and Hammer-whose techniques I would have _almost_ admired if he hadn't destroyed my Expo.

My Expo. My _baby_.

I'd never been more angry in my life-second only to Obadiah ripping out my arc from my chest-but Pepper...

Well. I gave her brownie points for holding it together until we both got back to the hotel, at least.

At first, the good part: she had hugged me so hard that my [kick-ass] new arc prototype had probably bruised her, but afterward it got real ugly, real quick. As soon as she could catch a flight back to Malibu, she left. I personally thought it was absurd that she didn't even leave on the same plane she arrived on, but I supposed she was just so angry that she didn't want anything to do with anything that had my name plastered on the side of it.

Hell hath no fury, I guess.

We didn't speak for almost two weeks after that.

And it was as if the kiss hadn't even happened at all.

It was awkward _forever_ , but when she started to relax around me again, it wasn't the same. To have some of our old banter (probably not the best word to describe it) back, was kind of reassuring, but apart from the usual, "Will that be all?" and "Stop using my shoes as paperweights," it was now strictly business. It was disgusting.

So I stopped trying, and decided that if I couldn't keep her at my side, I could sure as hell keep Happy at hers.

I yawned widely. I was bored, nervous, and exhausted.

And it was only three in the afternoon.

Rolling back to the console, I began the unnecessarily long process of shutting down all the tablets, holographs, and touchscreen computers by hand; I hoped that doing so manually would speed along the process exhausting myself to unconsciousness.

"Sir?"

His tone had a weird inflection in it that I couldn't put my finger on. I frowned and shook my head-I could clean up whatever Dummy's newest mess was after I finished. If I wasn't going to sleep efficiently-even though I knew I needed it-I _at least_ wanted to be in a bed.

"Sir," the A.I. said a little louder, resigned-sounding.

I scowled.

"What? I'm trying to close all these computers down so I can-"

"My apologies, Sir, but you must listen."

He cut me off. An interesting affectation that was just this side of weird enough to make me pause.

"The computer to your left, Sir."

I glared up at the ceiling.

"I swear, Jarvis, if this is the Maze Game or something, I'll shred your codes." I rocked onto my heels and my computer chair rocketed backward toward the console. "And then I'll feed the scraps to the surfers," I added darkly, and scrolled with my left thumb until I found the systems controls, cranked up the volume, and waited. "How does that sound?"

 _Unholy_.

My threat died with Jarvis' recording.

The noise, whatever it was, was screechy and terrible and deep-so profoundly freaking _unnatural_ that my skin crawled.

It almost sounded like a language. The same sound oscillated, now, and it was sharper this time. I sat back in surprise, watching the static bounce up and down on the screen. It looked too organized. Mathematical, even.

 _Binary code?_

"Are we the first ones to intercept this?" I asked warily. Whatever notion of sleep I had before was long gone now.

"From what I can tell by the Stark Three Communications Satellite, Sir, we are currently in the outermost sector of Earth's magnetic field. Our flight path is followed closely by only one other, but we seem to have intercepted the signal first."

"Who's that?"

Jarvis paused just slightly. "A Hammer Tech Satellite. However, it is of the Weapons Tracking variety."

I groaned. "And how far behind are they?"

"The Hammer Tech Satellite will most likely intercept the signal in one and a half hours; however, this is not an approximate estimate based on previous accounts of Justin Hammer's technological successes."

"No," I shook my head, and twirled a gnawed-on ballpoint pen between my fingers. "Hammer can't manufacture long-range missiles worth crap, but satellites...They aren't bad."

"Shall I contact him with intentions to warn, Sir?"

And I snorted. "Warn him about what? For all we know it's some malfunction. Just email Tech or R&D and have 'em figure it out."

 _That's lazy and you know it._

"Our satellite isn't producing the sound, Sir. The satellite is receiving it from a location past our magnetic field."

My pen stilled, and I went cold.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying, Jarvis?"

"I can confirm that it is, at least, not coming from the actual of Earth, Sir."

"Well, then...can you confirm it's from an Earthly satellite?"

I was honestly grasping at straws, but I _refused_ to live in another science fiction movie for at least another year. The Hammer Drones had been plenty of death-defying excitement.

"Would you prefer that I directed my energy toward obtaining the signal distance, Sir?"

"Better keep an eye on it," I muttered. "No trail, though."

"Very well, Sir."

I tapped my pen on my desk, irritated. I _hated_ to admit it, but Hammer had some of the best Satellite technology aside from NASA; right up there with mine. I probably wouldn't have the time to go to my laboratory in Fresno without seriously cutting into time that I didn't know I'd need or not.

 _Which sucks!_

Hammer was really leaving me with no options, and I was starting to slightly regret our competitiveness, now. He was the only one outside of any credible government installation who would understand what that static meant.

Either way, it included a trip to Washington D.C.

A computer to my right chimed. I disliked the sound of the little alarm, but I looked. I had to.

I hadn't really expected to like what I saw, but...well, I really didn't like what I saw. And if I was expecting anything at all, it sure wasn't... _that_.

"Whoa, hello," I mumbled. "Jarvis? Wanna explain?

"Sir, if my calculations are correct, the signal is coming from a small three hundred and seventy-five thousand kilometers away, the distance the Earth is to the-"

Bleakly, I finished his sentence. It was a talent that not even Rhodey, my arguable brother, could boast of our own relationship.

"The Moon."

* * *

 **If you feel inspired to do so, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Running before Walking

**A/N: Your response was awesome! Thanks, and enjoy! (:**

 **XOXO, Helix.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Iron Man or Independence Day.**

* * *

The call didn't turn out as bad as I had expected it to be.

"Happy. I need Pepper-"

Happy cut me off. He sounded distinctly like I had interrupted something.

"Look, Tony. I'm glad you're finally working toward sorting out your differences right now and all, but do _I_ have to live with the unnecessary innuendos? She comes home in what, two days? Do you think you can wait _that_ long-"

"No, Happy. I meant, you both need to come home, now. Don't cut me off." I could tell he was listening now, when the line went silent. "Jarvis," I called up to the ceiling, "put me on speaker, please...and thank you."

The laminated MENSA card in my wallet proved multitasking a less than terrible issue-it was a good thing, too. I started furious work on an algorithm and called to Dummy and Butterfingers.

They whirred to attention faithfully-they were used to me being too busy to point as way of direction.

"Make yourselves useful and pack up the essentials. Spare suits, the usual repair gear, flash-drives, and Jarvis on a flash-drive and on a CD."

 _Man._ I was hyperactive, practically buzzing, feeling purposeful and _awake_ for the first time in months. After fifteen more minutes, I leapt up from my chair. "Run it, J."

Immediately, I began to help pack up what my robots couldn't, with a fervor I definitely hadn't had before. It was almost panic; maybe even for nothing.

It was better to decide to be safe rather than sorry. There weren't radio D.J.'s on the dark side of the moon.

"Jarvis, I want my fastest Mach suit-I think that's Number Four-prepped for departure as soon as I come back down. Taxi the cars to the freight elevator-please, _please_ don't forget the Hot Rod-and then to the storage facility. Butterfingers, get You down there too, she's old. I want the estate locked down completely, and the energy shield put up the second I leave. And black out all of the windows. Now would actually be great. I don't want anything...seeing in."

The windows darkened, and I nodded. "Don't worry about the rest of the house."

I'd already had the most of the art and furniture put underground because of the maintenance crews for the living room, anyway. Reaching up, I pulled down three metal suitcases from a shelf next to the new flammable cabinet.

"Pack those using our _updated_ emergency protocols." I handed the two heavier ones to my robots. "The next thing I want you to do is to contact S.I. and notify them to commence shut down and evac of all systems, staff, and their families. Tell them to move as far underground as they're able, until further notice. Fill all of the S.I. bunkers. I don't want them to panic, so tell them it's a mandatory nuclear drill. Newly introduced company policy or some BS like that." I paused, momentarily thoughtful. "No, you know what? While you're at it, go ahead and write up a policy and pencil it in there. We don't want legal backlash saying that we warned our people but nobody else. Maybe Natashalie could notarize it for us. She liked Legal, didn't she?"

"Right away, Sir."

I ran a twitchy hand over my hair. "This is...this is worse than a Sci-fi. The biggest cities are hit first, right? I think we need to stick to the stereotypes here, Jarvis. What do you think?"

"Affirmative, Sir. Shall I contact all facilities?"

"Make it happen, Jarvis." I agreed grimly. The elevator doors were open already, waiting for me, and I strode inside. "Happy? You'd better still be there."

There was a muffled thump-

"Still here, boss," Happy breathed over the phone.

"What're you doing, Hogan?" I demanded, frustrated and nervous enough as it was. The elevator doors slid open to the hallway upstairs.

"Relax, I was finding Pepper. I called Virgil. He's prepping the Lear at McCarran, wheels up in forty. She is _so_ mad at you-"

I cringed. "Look, Hap, I know that she's angry that she has to cut short her conference or whatever, but right now your top priority is to get her on that jet and then she can hash it out with me in the next couple of days when we get to wherever we're going," I muttered. He made a protesting noise, but I stopped him a third time.

"But _until_ then, you can deal with her. Let her be mad at me all she wants, agree with her, tell her whatever she wants to hear, but just get her in the air. Tell Virgil that I want you to circle inside the cloud cover and I don't want you landing for anything except for fuel. Go dark. No outgoing calls, emails, faxes or even damn Morse Code. I don't even want you calling _me._ Are we clear?"

"Boss, what's going on?" Happy lowered his voice. "Is this like, _National Security,_ important? Because you know that they tap phones...Look," he sighed, "if you're drunk or something, Pepper's not going to think twice about tossing you off of Point Dume with your roadster chained to your ankle. You know that right?"

"I'm not _drunk_ ," I snapped. I shouldered open the double doors and tossed the case on the bed before walking to the window overlooking the Point. The entire horizon was as clear as crystal. It was mockingly gorgeous outside; an unimaginably perfect holiday weekend. I shoved my hands in my pockets and decided that I was going to find out the answer to his question one way or another. "Promise me, Hogan."

"You're the boss."

I pulled away from the window, semi-satisfied.

Walking over the bed, I started unclipping the bolts on the case and easing the edges up.

This would be my personal suitcase. I lifted up the metal seal that covered a square-shaped indentation in the middle, in which rested circuitry that powered it, surrounded in a triangle by three circular indentations. There were two other inconspicuously deep, empty compartments underneath.

I was just working on picking practical clothes and shoes out of the closet when Dummy whirred in with a tray-full of the emergency spare reactors that would go inside.

"I thought I told you to go underground?" I asked, stepping out and dropping my clothes on the bed. I got to work hooking them up to the case but glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

Dummy whined and inched closer me, and I patted him. I didn't think I even knew what I'd do with myself if they were vaporized or something similar.

"Go," I told him. I was sure that I was on the verge of panicking. "Nothing can reach you a half-mile beneath the Pacific, now can it?"

Dummy chirped with a childish finality, and rolled out of my room. I noticed peripherally his that his tread had stained my cream-colored carpet with viscous oil.

I tried to imagine Pepper's reaction if she saw it, if she were here.

 _But she isn't,_ reminded a snide voice in the back of my head that sounded like a disturbing mix between Happy, Rhodey, and Jarvis.

My hysteria escalated a little bit more.

Messily-not because I didn't care but because I didn't have _time_ to care-I stuffed the piles of clothes in the second drawer until the last possible t-shirt. I was almost done, but it was strange packing for myself; Pepper had always done it for me.

I mentally kicked myself, hard. This was not the attitude I needed to be having.

I locked the case. The spare shoes I'd picked out would just have to stay here.

* * *

I squinted at the workshop door as well as I could through the necessary black-out, took a self-indulgent second to look around. My cars and motorcycles were gone, their parking spaces bare. All of my computers were gone, and so were their desks. Even the glass cases that protected an individual Iron Man suit were replaced by an airy half-tube indent in the wall. The 'bots were gone, and even the presence of Jarvis had disappeared deep below where I stood. The emptiness brought back memories of the mansion's construction almost fifteen years ago.

It was nightmarish, considering how bright and perfect-looking I knew that it was outside.

Easing the door open with my palm was simple enough; no irrelevant power meant no security passcodes.

Only the assembly grid had been lit up (probably so I wouldn't trip and break my ankle, because that would _so_ not be convenient) in the middle of the floor, and my Mach IV waited patiently, opened up at the front like a closet. All I had to do was step backwards into it and let it activate itself.

Strapped to the back of the suit were the two larger cases: one of which enclosed another Iron Man suit, though I built the second Suit Case to be slimmer and lighter than the previous one. In the other, laptops, memory sticks, Jarvis' updated codes, gear for emergency suit-repairs, etc. And countless other things I would probably need.

Things that I would have forgotten, ultimately, if I had been packing them myself.

Stepping out of the doorway, I walked up to the Suit and hooked on the last case-the most important one-onto its shoulders. I ran my fingers carefully over the metalwork as I went, checking for irregularities, and thankfully found none. Number Four wasn't my most recently updated model, but she was my fastest.

I'd be testing her limits today. If this turned out to be nothing after all, at least I would be getting a statistic out of it.

Trying not to think about how creepy the Suit looked in the darkness of the workshop, I bounced on the balls of my feet before turning around. Stepping up, backwards, I fit my tennis shoes into the feet of the suit. My arms went spread-eagle to align properly and my neck eased back where it was supposed to go, and I allowed myself to relax a fraction.

The Suit needed no further encouragement.

Like a living thing, it shifted and formed around my body like a seamless second skin. The heavy metal settled around me, weighing me down slightly, but I hardly even noticed anymore. Robotic arms followed after, making sure everything was tightened and locked in their proper places. The instant the assembly was over-a matter of moments-the harsh floor-lights automatically shut off, and slunk into the floor, purposeless.

Allowing my own light to guide me, I stepped off the platform, walked until I was about fifteen feet away from the tunnel and stopped, keeping my visor open.

I took a deep breath and shifted my neck until my faceplate slid down. I was momentarily blinded as the Suit re-calibrated, but didn't pay much attention to any of the information except for the ATC checks-which were, for now, insultingly normal. It made me sick to think that this might be the last normal day for while. And nobody knew it but me. Maybe even Hammer and his goons, by now.

I could feel the energy building underneath me, and I rolled my shoulders heavily. The weight of the suit somehow managed to feel novel everytime.

What could I do but make sure that we would have a normal day again?

"Sometimes, Jarvis, you've gotta run before you can walk," I muttered, shooting out of the garage and arcing over the property. I spied the brief flash of the energy shield snapping over the mansion and disappearing out of the corner of my visor.

I was over Texas before he answered me.

* * *

 **If you feel inspired to do so, please review!**


	3. Chapter 3: Prison Break

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait. I genuinely did not mean to take this long to post this chapter. Most of it was already written a while ago, but I was just recently slammed with a ton of really brilliant ideas that I hope to have published soon. I guess this got put on the backburner-no excuses, though. Anyway, I'm just so thrilled with the response I've gotten so far. Thank you so much! This chapter is dedicated to** **dragonman11** **,** **FanGirl** **, and** **Sam** **, whose reviews inspired me to finish this chapter. Enjoy! (:**

 **XOXO, Helix.**

 **Disclaimer: You know the drill.**

* * *

The radio signals were disappearing.

One by one, they were dissolving, the closer I got to the Capitol-and it was driving me crazy.

I didn't get it. No matter how hard Jarvis and I scavenged the frequencies, no matter how many times I tried to bounce it off a tower- _nothing_ would hold. Not even a small-town FM station. I'm sure everyone would assume it was just _their_ hometown's station that didn't work, and not put the pieces together.

"Auto-pilot mode, please," I muttered, yawning widely.

"Do you not wish to maintain auto-pilot mode without the digital flight path, Sir?"

"It's useless," I frowned. "Use the Suit's navigation system, and base it off of physical landmarks. I want to stay low. Set a course for Alexandria."

"Affirmative. Shall waking you when we arrive in Fairfax be sufficient warning?"

"Yeah, whatever. Don't wait up for me."

The HUD lights dimmed and I blinked, my face leaning forward and eyes closing over...probably Missouri...

"Sir."

"Mhm." My answer was stiff and bleary; I had never been a morning person, but this was just _awful._ I drifted again, back into that awesome place of un-wakefulness.

Until-

"Sir, I insist-"

 _"What?"_ I roared, suddenly so extremely aggravated that I dipped harshly in the air. "What do you insist on?"

Jarvis' voice remained pleasantly monotonous. "Forgive me, Sir, but we have reached our destination."

"Fairfax?" I twisted in the air a little to shake the sleep off of me as best as I could. Still, my smooth barrel rolls were hardly jarring; I was hoping that the commute from Fairfax to Alexandria would save me a couple extra minutes' nap-time.

"No, Sir, we are approaching Alexandria as we speak."

"I thought I told you to wake me up in Fairfax." This irritated me, and I frowned.

"I attempted to, Sir, but you were asleep."

"Whatever. Sorry I snapped. I'd call a taxi but even the cell service is starting to glitch," I murmured to myself, glancing up at an icon on the HUD that confirmed just that. "But I don't want to cause a panic with the suit..."

"May I suggest landing in a local park and proceeding the 'old-fashioned way'?"

"Flagging down a cab?" I mused. "I guess having a chauffeur's spoiled me, huh, J?"

"I do not imagine your cushioned upbringing had anything to do with that, Sir," Jarvis answered dryly.

I snorted. "Remind me to fire Happy once this is all over, 'kay?"

"Duly noted, Sir."

* * *

 **4:42 p.m., July the 1st**

 **Alexandria, Virginia (just outside of Washington D.C.)**

House arrest sucked.

It hadn't been all bad. He hadn't gone to prison, which was good. Not just good, great, even. Not even self-proclaimed villains wanted to go to jail.

It hadn't been all too bad, if he ignored the fact that it had been seven months, sixteen days, and thirty-two minutes that he had been locked up in his penthouse apartment in Alexandria, just for giving that _psychopath_ a second chance. It had seemed like a fool-proof business deal. But of course, he hadn't realized that then. Probably would have re-thought it too, if he had known.

Which, he hadn't.

Justin Hammer was just grateful he had talked them out of the ankle bracelet.

He stretched his arms above his head-his glasses slipped off his nose. Nudging them back up with his finger-tip, he walked into the living room, his black loafers squealing against the dark wood floor. He cringed a little and turned on the television.

"-unbelievable, Brian, it really is, and what they're going to try and do is-"

Justin rubbed his forehead and changed the channel.

"-the weather here is incredible, but I can already tell from the forecast that this Fourth of July weekend is going to be a scorcher-"

A resounding click preceded the image turning fuzzy with static snow. He buried his forehead into the heel of his hand.

All he had wanted to do was watch some TV before another day of either researching ways to successfully get out (and stay out) of his apartment-whether it was legally or illegally was just semantics at this point-for good, finding another interior designer because he was getting _real_ sick of staring at the same piece of modern art on the same side table every morning. Or doing whatever else he could find to entertain himself with.

Which wasn't much. Not very much at all.

Just as he was nearly to the point of crushing the remote into plastic splinters under his shoe, the television shifted from it's grainy image to a moderately clear one. It it still bounced up and down on the screen every so often like things with a bad signal usually do, though. A deep voice broke through the static-

-and promptly disappeared again.

He swore. His television had been working _fine_ yesterday.

Taking off his glasses, he listened to the harsh noises while he swiped the lenses with the silk cloth in his breast pocket. He tried not to be too annoyed. This was currently the most interesting thing that had happened to him all week.

Then again, it was only Friday. Two more days left to prove himself wrong.

He flicked off the TV, and stood, but only made it two feet out of his living room before his cell phone buzzed on the glass coffee table. The noise grated on his nerves.

Turning on his heel, he walked back and scooped it up, before frowning. House arrest or not, business calls didn't go ignored, especially not from his...Satellite Technicians.

Hmm.

Justin swiped a lazy finger across the screen and put it to his ear before walking up to his floor-to-ceiling windows. "Hello?"

"Mr. Hammer, this is Andy from Satellite." He paused, and Justin rolled his eyes, but was mildly surprised with the lack of pleasantries. "We discovered a problem with the Weapons Tracking Satellite a few minutes ago."

Justin frowned deeper.

"What kind of problem?"

Andy hesitated.

"National Security, Sir."

Justin's stomach sank. "What sector did you say the satellite was in?"

"I didn't, but the Outermost sector, Sir. We've already ran all the possible trajectories-"

"And?" He felt a headache starting to burn behind his eyes. "Is it a confirmed WMD?"

"No, Sir. Company protocol reads that you're to be contacted first. It isn't a _confirmed_ WMD, though. It's...different. Strange. We've been running the signal through the system, but all it's coming off as is this weird static, I've never seen anything like it-

"Wait, wait." Justin rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. "You said signal."

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, then, where is it coming from?" Justin leaned against the window, closing his eyes.

"The signal's trajectory doesn't read _as_ worldly, Sir."

Justin's eyes snapped open.

"Sorry, what? Are you telling me that this is a confirmed signal from space?" He ventured, unsure.

"The distance," he paused, and Justin heard some shuffling, "is equal to that of what separates the Earth and the moon. Roughly, anyway."

"The moon," Justin repeated flatly. "We're receiving a signal from the moon. Our moon?"

"That's correct, Sir."

Justin let out a low breath. "Do you have a...a source?"

"No, Sir. That's why we called, Sir. We need your access codes to track the source. Sat-Tech can track weapons without your codes, but signals are different, Sir. You privatized that technology."

"Okay, okay. Who knows about this other than you?"

"Two others, but that's it. We're pulling double-shifts because everybody else is out on holiday," Andy explained. "There aren't a lot of people here today. Not anybody that doesn't need to be, anyway."

Justin started to pace. "Alright. I'll give security a call and tell them to shut down the building for the holiday. I want everyone gone but you three, alright? Here's what I want you to do, I want your technicians to secure this line. I don't want _anyone_ finding out about this, do you understand?

He could hear Andy swallow. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Use it to contact your families. Tell them only what they need to know and then call me back after you're done. Do not use any other phone except for this one to call my personal line."

"I understand, Mr. Hammer."

"I'll bring you the access codes."

"How-"

He hung up.

If he was going to do this, he was going to have to do this right.

Sprinting two at a time up the carpeted stairs to his in-home office, he didn't waste time looking around.

Instead, he strode up to the enormous glass rifle case built into the shelving on the left side of his office. Immediately he started to work on skimming the notebooks he kept on the eye-level shelf.

"C'mon, come _on_ ," he muttered under his breath.

Justin bit back a swear, then stopped.

 _There._

He reached toward an ordinary-looking black binder labeled "SANCTUM" and pulled it out toward him at an angle until he heard a latch fly to his left.

Replacing the binder before reaching down and opening the side-door of the rifle case all the way, he climbed in. It left plenty of room to stand in. Pressing both hands against the green velvet backing, he pushed forward, and the entire wall (mounted guns and all) inside the case swung inward.

The smell of paint practically hit him in the face-but that was because it was still fairly fresh, he reasoned. As it should be, because it was new.

He had figured if he was going to be pegged as a villain, he was going to have to have a evil lair.

And it was a _nice_ lair.

Practically Potts' idea, too, for landing him with this house arrest in the first place.

It was fairly spacious; maybe a little bit bigger than his actual office. It was completely sound-proofed. The lighting was movement-responsive, the floors were carpeted, and it was fully furnished with black leather couches and a marble desk at the far back. He had even topped it off with a saltwater fish-tank full of electric eels behind the desk. He'd seriously considered piranhas, but his interior designer had advised strongly against it.

For whatever reason.

He padded further into the dark room past his lounge, took a seat behind the desk and began to rummage through the drawers, taking out all of the items he knew he'd need: a never-before-used, encrypted government satellite cell phone with emergency contacts, his passport and other necessary travel documents, several flash-drives on a black leather lanyards, and most importantly, the PDA with all of his company-as well as government-access codes, kept safe with a built-in four-digit pad-lock.

Gathering all of these items and more in his arms, he pushed back the chair and stood up. Tossing the supplies on a couch, he walked over to an oil portrait of himself behind his desk at the Hammer Industries Headquarters, lifted it off his hanger, and unlocked the safe behind it.

It was about the size of a hotel mini-fridge, and it had good lighting. Reaching in, he took a nondescript gray backpack off a Command Strip hook in the back, a zippered leather pouch with wads of cash stuffed inside of it, as well as several fake identities and their corresponding documents enclosed in file folders.

Just in case.

He paused, and considered-

Then snatched up a copy of his will and a sleek, holstered black pistol before finally closing the safe and re-hanging the painting.

He took a moment to organize his things inside his backpack before slipping out of his office again. Crossing the hall, he selected a few casual civilian outfits from his room, but that was it.

Justin's phone buzzed again as he closed his closet door. Irritated and anxious, he slipped it out of his pocket, but wavered when he saw who it had been. He only kept his contact for business purposes (and the occasional heckling, congratulatory text message after a stock drop) but why would Tony Stark choose this moment to call _him?_

He shook his head and chose to ignore it.

Hurrying downstairs, he gathered up his wallet, cell phone, and set his security system too-not that it mattered.

Justin nodded to himself, crossing off all the items on his mental checklist. He had enough cash to generously bribe a cabbie.

* * *

 **Did anybody see this coming? I hope not. (: If you feel inspired to do so, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4: Accomplice

**A/N: I really did intend to post this on the Fourth of July, just to be corny, but I never got around to it, so here it is. Most of it's just dialogue/build-up for the actual plot, and is entirely necessary. Please enjoy while I finish chapter 5. Thank you (:**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Iron Man or Independence Day.**

* * *

"Took you long enough to break parole. I'm kind of disappointed in you. Especially when you ignored my call."

Nearly to the cross-walk, Justin froze.

This was worse than just happening to bump into his parole officer.

"Aren't you supposed to be locked up in your bat-cave or something?" He could practically hear his frown. "Oh, wait. You're the villain, now, right? Your disguise needs some work."

Justin turned, slow. "I'm not the conventional kind."

"Yeah, no kidding." Tony crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the patiently waiting-and probably sufficiently bribed-taxi. White-blue light glowed dimly through his grey t-shirt and Justin frowned at it. "What was your plan after you paid off a cabbie?"

"I have business I have to deal with," Justin shrugged, sticking his hands in his suit pockets.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"On Fourth of July weekend?"

Justin was starting to get nervous; Tony wouldn't be bothering him without a decent reason.

"Without armed escorts? Or the handcuffs?"

"I really do have business," Justin said flatly.

"I believe you." Tony shrugged right back at him, and grinned tightly. "Need a ride?"

"What's in it for you?"

"I can finally say I was an accomplice in a successful prison break-out." He spoke very seriously, as if it was, in fact, a cause close to his heart.

Justin shifted his backpack and weighed his options.

"Is that a yes?" He raised his eyebrows. "I'm kind of on a time-crunch, so..."

If he wasn't going to turn him in, this was as good an opportunity as anything. Justin sighed, and nodded.

"Great!" He sort of beamed, as if this was his actual plan all along, if not a bettered version of it, and hopped inside the cab. "Where're you headed? Are you hungry? I'm partial to Burger King, but I actually don't think I could eat a thing right now."

Justin glimpsed a glint of scarlet and gold folded neatly under the seat as he strapped in. He nodded warily toward cabbie.

Tony glanced at him, looking seriously amused. "Don't worry about him. He has a nice holiday bonus waiting for him."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Hammer Industries, then."

"Cool, cool. Me too." Tony nodded, and rapped on the glass, calling up to the cabbie, "Hammer Industries, in Alexandria, please."

"Oh, yeah?" Justin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he busied himself with digging his satellite phone out of his bag. "Look, I don't need a babysitter, I just needed a ride-"

"Yeah, that's not happening," Tony muttered, and before Justin could blink, he snatched the satellite phone right out of his hands.

"What _-_?"

Tony rolled down the window without pause and hurled it into a passing storm drain with annoying accuracy.

Justin stared, astounded.

Rolling the window up, Tony whirled toward him. "You can't use a satellite phone, idiot. Even encrypted ones. Do you even _realize_ what's going on?"

"That depends," Justin hedged, not wanting to let on what he knew just yet, either. "All I know is that my technicians called me an hour ago about a problem that one of my satellites picked up. Do you know what's going on?"

He shook his head meaningfully. The cabbie couldn't hear _that._ "Look, Hammer. I'm not your biggest fan, but I need your lab. I was even going to help break you out but seem more than self-sufficient."

"Why my lab? Why not just ask your-your government friends? You're kind of screwing with my day, here."

"Somehow I don't think so," Tony glared knowingly. "Do you honestly think I want to need your help? You're the closest laboratory to Washington D.C. If you want your fifteen seconds of fame for saving the world, here's your chance. And for the love of everything, don't blow it."

Justin's stomach sank. He _knew_ , and he was taking it seriously.

Tony rapped on the dirty pane again. "Go even faster and that five thousand will double on destination."

The cab lurched around a curve, significantly faster, and Justin's stomach flattened into his spine.

"Good to see you too, Tony."

* * *

 **10:50** **a.m., July the 2nd,**

 **Alexandria, Virginia (just outside of Washington D.C.)**

"This just doesn't make any sense," Justin argued. He rubbed his face and took another pull from his third cup of bad coffee. "What would they want with Earth, anyway? It's _Earth."_

"Have you ever seen a single movie in your sorry lifetime? _I_ think they want to suck our resources dry. But, I mean...maybe they're friendly. Of course, then, you'll get arrested for breaking parole without cause, and _really_ have to go prison..."

Justin looked up from his computer. "What about the part where you aided and abetted me?"

Tony frowned thoughtfully. "I would just say you held me hostage. I know that cabbie sure as shit wouldn't argue."

Justin eyed Tony's steel cases were that were stacked neatly the corner of what, for all intents and purposes, was his mission control.

The room itself was impressive and windowless. It was filled to the brim with expensive computers and tech; the ceilings were high, the desks wide and terraced on the floor, and completed with a huge screen at the forefront. Jarvis, Tony's creepy AI, had taken over an entire row, and was busy running advanced security and encryption programs.

He kicked them.

"Uh, do you mind not messing with my stuff?" Tony snapped. "Look, Jarvis, just...remind him. Play that recording again, too."

The biggest screen flashed with the ominous trajectories and oscillating static filled the room. Justin ground his teeth. Tony was frowning like he was doing math in his head.

Justin glared tiredly up at him from where Tony was pacing on a balcony over-looking the room, and suddenly got mad. "You know what, who do you think you are, taking over my building?"

Tony, for the most part, ignored him. "Will you please just let me _think?_ You're kind of pissing me off."

 _"I'm_ pissing _you_ off? Look, man, you've been 'thinking' all damn night. It's morning already," he argued. "We don't have much time left. And please, turn that _off."_

"I _know_ , and I wish your guys were faster at their jobs," Tony whined in the same tone Justin had just used. But he did turn off the static.

"They're almost done, I think." He spared a look at the closed door of the room his technicians had decided to occupy.

"I just don't understand what doesn't make sense to _you._ Haven't you, y'know, seen this coming?"

"Seen what coming? The impending extinction of human kind? Yeah, eventually. But not on damn Fourth of July weekend," Justin shot back.

"Well, when would you have picked?" Tony rolled his eyes.

Justin stood up and stretched. "I'm going to go get some more coffee." He looked up to see him pacing furiously some more. "You want some?"

"Bring that incarceration present I sent you. Is it still in your office?"

Justin slammed the door to the adjoining break-room. The coffee was stale, and he checked his watch while he drank.

 _10:52 a.m._

 _Well...it's not the worst time to be a little less than sober._

He yawned around his mug and took the elevator to his office.

Justin hadn't been here in so long that he honestly felt like he was snooping-it was dim inside, too, and pretty dusty. It clearly hadn't been touched since he had last time been in here, taking out personal belongings to bring with him to put in his home office.

The carpeted floors were paler than he remembered, but maybe that was because they hadn't been exposed to sunlight in so long they were starting to fade.

It didn't take him too long afterwards to locate the trash can he had shoved the scotch in, shortly before he was escorted off his own premises. It had been tucked under his desk. The bottle was also kind of dusty, but it hadn't been tampered with. He doubted Tony would have cared too much even if it had been.

Not bothering with glasses, not because he didn't have them but because they wouldn't use them, he made to leave, but paused.

Striding to the back, he impulsively pressed a button that would lighten the tinted floor-to-ceiling windows.

Justin frowned down at the bottle as the windows adjusted themselves. How much had he _paid_ for this? He felt like Tony wouldn't have sent his least favorite competitor a bottle of the good stuff, unless he knew Justin would never drink it purely out of spite.

He squinted through his glasses a little (he couldn't quite read the label) but just as the room got brighter, a shadow fell back over the room.

"The heck?" Justin murmured, pressing the button again with his free hand.

It wasn't the windows.

Justin looked up.

Gunmetal grey smoke tinged liberally with gold fire was spreading across the sky in a straight, billowy line.

And spilling _out_ of the smoke...

Tony had been right.

Flying out the of his office suite, he didn't waste time with the elevators, but took the stairs three at a time all the way back down to the control room.

"Hey, where's the booze?" Tony demanded lightly. He was pacing next to a bank of computers, obviously having gotten tired of the balcony. He squinted at him. "What is it?"

Justin turned and ran for the lobby.

"Hammer! Wait, hold on-" Tony jogged behind him, trying to catch up. His sneakers squealed on the clean white floors.

Reaching the lobby, Justin threw open the doors. Tony stumbled out behind him.

"What is your problem- _oh."_

"Where did they come from?" Justin wondered out-loud.

"Not far enough away from me," Tony muttered.

The ship looked like a city sitting on top of a compressed charcoal disc. Wide striations covered all sides of the thing, like claw marks, where others were clearly patterns. And in no time, doubtlessly, it was going to cover D.C. entirely.

"Mr. Hammer, sir? Mr. Stark?"

Andy had followed them outside, but to his credit, didn't appear to be too outwardly fazed.

"Yeah?"

Neither turned around, too focused on staring.

"You've got to come and see this."

An fuzzy infrared picture-probably one of the last successful ones taken from a satellite-was blown up on the big screen, alongside several muted news channels from other parts of the globe. They each depicted identical ships in different stages of descent, and every screen was variably staticky.

Andy addressed them both, but he looked right at Justin. "They're breaking up, Sir. Thirty-six different ships, targeting the most densely populated areas of the world. London, Moscow, New York, Los Angeles..."

"Width?" Tony asked, inwardly grateful to himself he had the foresight to secure his estate as best he could before he left.

"Fifteen kilometers respectively."

"So that would make the mothership itself a third the size of the moon," Justin mumbled to himself, looking up at the threatening magenta blob at the top of the screen. "That's just...fabulous."

"Well, that settles it," Tony declared softly, to himself. "Jarvis, hack into the mainframes of all the major cities affected by the ships and prepare emergency evacuation protocols. Or set off Earthquake warning systems. Whichever's more effective."

"Of course, Sir."

"What are you _doing?"_ Justin demanded.

"Evacuating the cities. You can't honestly expect me to sit around and let them smoke out all our major hubs, do you?" Tony was incredulous.

"You're gonna cause a panic!" Justin shouted. He could already hear the alarms wailing outside.

"They're probably _already_ panicking, Hammer!" Tony argued back. "Wouldn't you be?"

"I think I'm a little bit past _that_ now, Tony, thanks!" Justin snarled.

"Look, they haven't asked us to take them to our leader yet, but I have a pretty good feeling that this isn't an interstellar peace-keeping mission."

Justin hesitated. "You think they're here to...wipe us out?"

"Well, I sure _hope_ not," Tony muttered, and turned to face Andy. "How're you guys coming on figuring out why the satellites are messed up?"

"We're close," Andy promised. "We have a couple more hours' work to do, but you're going to have to sit tight."

* * *

Justin had just dozed off when they finished.

 _"Hammer,_ wake up!" Tony shoved him hard in his chair.

"What, what?" Justin mumbled, adjusting his glasses. "I'm awake, damn."

"We gotta go. Your scientists-and their families too, apparently-are heading down to your facility's basement. There's nothing else they can do for us."

He sat up. "Where are we going?"

"The White House," Tony grunted. He was moving his cases to the door.

"Are you nuts? They can't see me there. I'd be arrested on the spot. On top of that, they probably won't even let you in," he pointed out.

"You think they _actually_ care right now if you broke parole? You'd be crazy not to. Everybody who hasn't already left-because of me, _by the way_ -is leaving the city now." Tony shook his head. "Look, besides that, I know someone who can get us in, but I need to make a call first. I'm sorry, but I don't think your name carries a lot of weight anymore."

Justin glared. "Way to rub it in last-minute, Tony."

"Jarvis, call David Levinson."

"Who's that? I don't remember anybody in Whitmore's administration with that name," Justin accused.

"You're right, he's not. But he knows someone who is," Tony answered, shoving some papers in his hands. "What do you see?"

Justin scanned the papers. "Is this a-"

"Countdown clock?" Tony cut him off. "Yeah, we've got a little less than two hours. Your guys really know how to cut it close."

"I don't know why your stupid AI couldn't've done it," Justin challenged.

"Because he was busy keeping this place secure." Tony snapped. "Plus he was working on shutting down all of my satellites internally. When I built their software, I implanted a security system that I could activate if there was anybody using it illegally. If _they_ were using any of them for distributing that embedded signal," he glanced at the pieces of paper in Justin's hands, "we've managed to cripple their chances at the very least."

"So, what, we're going to warn the President?"

"As far as I know, he didn't jump ship like some of his administration did. Have you got any better plans?"

"Not really," Justin admitted.

"Didn't think so," Tony mumbled. "Jarvis, what's the hold up?"

"I am working on patching through, Sir."

"Hurry it up, please." He turned to Justin again. "Do you have any company cars left in your garages here?"

"The government that we're about to go save impounded them," Justin replied crisply. "I watched them drive away with my Bentleys."

Tony swiped a hand down his face, like was attempting to physically prevent an apoplectic fit. Then he seemed to calm a little.

"Uh-"

"I'm not waiting on Jarvis to put us through to him, not here. We _can't_ wait," Tony shook his head. "Jarvis, disconnect and try again, on the Suit system. Shut down security here, we don't need it. We're outta here."

"Very well, Sir."

With that, he removed Jarvis' flash-drive from one of the computer consoles and stuck it back in his jacket pocket.

Justin watched, horrified. "Are you _leaving_ me here?"

Tony rolled his eyes deeply. "No. Did I _literally_ not _just_ say that we were both going to the White House?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You finally get your wish-"

"My _wish?"_

"I'm sorry-your life's dream. And after we save the world, I had better not see stolen technology on the market, either."

 _"What?"_

"We're flying."

* * *

 **If you are inspired to do so, please review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Tandem

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Chapter 6 coming soon!**

 **XOXO, Helix.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Iron Man, Independence Day, or Party City.**

* * *

Justin let the news sink in, and excitement was not his first emotion. "I don't know how to fly that thing."

"Of course you don't," Tony answered obviously.

"So...?"

"So, why does the body have more than one kidney?"

"Please don't speak in riddles," Justin frowned skeptically. "You brought more than one?"

"For emergencies. Anyhow, you're going to be magnetized to me. I'll be doing all the heavy lifting-as usual. Grab your crap and the case next to the door."

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he followed Tony outside with the heavy case in his right hand. It was muggy, and the sky was almost entirely blacked out by the ship.

Tony ignored it completely and bent to set the Suit on the ground. Pulling it up and out, he let it form on its own around him like he had done in Monte Carlo-except this one was red and gold instead of red and silver. It looked thicker, too. He reattached his two cases on his back before putting the other Suit-Case down on the ground in front of Justin's feet.

Tony retracted his face-plate. "What're you waiting on? Step on it and grab the handles. It'll do the rest for you."

A little hesitantly, he did as he was told. Suiting up felt like riding a bike for the first time again, and it was incredibly heavy for something as compact as it was.

"It takes getting used to," Tony shrugged easily, and Justin wondered how as he positioned his backpack on his shoulders. The suit was so _heavy._

Tony lifted up a panel on his right wrist, and pressed a button.

What felt like a invisible cuff jerked his left wrist sharply to Tony's right.

"What did you do to it?"

"Our systems are linked now. I'll manually deploy your boosters from my suit when I take off, but it's kind of important for you not to move around too much when we launch. That suit will automatically copy most of my actions while we're in the air, and the magnetic current will hold, but if you struggle, you'll throw off my balance when we're flying."

Justin nodded, and the movement from his neck caused the face-plate to slide down, lighting up as it automatically calibrated.

"Wow," Justin mutered. He really had to hand it to Tony; this was a _beautiful_ piece of technology. Now that he was in Tony's shoes, he admitted to himself that he wouldn't have given it up willingly, either.

Tony grinned, and his faceplate snapped down, too.

"Can you hear me?"

Justin jumped. Tony's tinny voice floated inside Justin's helmet.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, I can hear you."

"Good. Can you breathe alright? The extra weight can be hard on your lungs at first."

"I can breathe," Justin confirmed absently, his eyes unable to concentrate on a single holographic icon at one time. _What does he care?_

"Alright, sit tight and don't move."

Tony repositioned himself to flank Justin's left.

"I'll keep this comms link open. If you're struggling with the G's when we get in the air, let me know and maybe I'll ease up on the thrust."

"I-uh, okay, okay. Sounds good."

"Initiate thrust, J."

Warmth bloomed behind Justin's calves and in his palms as they both ascended carefully. He tried not to let his body waver too much before he felt for sure that the joints had locked into place.

"You alive in there?"

Justin couldn't _speak._

"Hammer? _Hello?"_

"I'm fine," Justin managed. "Let's just go."

"If you say so," Tony muttered. "Thirty percent thrust, Jarvis. And keeping trying David's number. I want to try and triangulate his signal so I can catch up with him if he hasn't already gotten a hold of Connie."

They rocketed upwards at-to Justin, anyway-breakneck speeds, and evened out. Justin marveled. This thing even had _night-vision._

A dial-tone played in the background.

"C'mon, pick up, Levinson. Pick up," he heard Tony mutter. "Jeez. Was he always this dodgy, Jarvis?"

It rang again, twice, and then-

"Yes, hello?" David's voice was harassed-sounding, and they could hear car horns faintly in the background noise.

"Hey, David! It's me, Tony. MIT, remember?"

"Tony...Tony...wait, Tony Stark? Is that you? Am I right?"

"You got it," Tony chirped, obviously relieved that he remembered. Justin was relieved, too, not that he had a reason to be.

"Wow, it's...it's been awhile. How are you? With what's been going on?"

Tony chuffed. "Things could be better, but you probably figured out what's going on, smart man such as yourself. So, uh...here's what we know on our end, if you're interested."

He proceeded to fill him in.

"Yes, that sounds right," David agreed darkly. "Look, Tony, where are you headed? Are you in town?"

"Yeah, I am, I am. Gimme a sec and I'll catch up with your car. You're trying to get to Connie, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to remember her number. How do you know I'm in a car?" David asked quietly.

"You don't drive, and you want to get to Connie ASAP, am I right? And I can hear Julius. Tell him I said hello."

"Uh, alright," David murmured. "Are you...driving?"

"You could say that."

Justin snorted and watched silently as the HUD focused on a beat-up little car heading into city.

"Hey, look, I see you. Hold on." Tony grunted a little, with the unfamiliar strain of two suits, and shifted closer to the car.

Justin peered inside, and watched as the older man-Julius-gave a second glance to both Iron Man suits and nearly drove off the road in fright. Over the phone, they both distantly heard Julius shouting about aliens as the car corrected itself.

"Shit, Tony. I forgot about the suits-yes, Dad, they're suits...not aliens."

"Sorry," Tony apologized, over the Suit's speaker system. "I couldn't take the company jet...y'know."

"Yeah, because Iron Man's not obvious at all," Justin cut in, mostly to himself.

"Who's your friend, Tony?" David asked. "That isn't Jim, is it?"

"Rhodey's at Bagram, in Afghanistan," Tony informed him. "David, meet Justin Hammer: colleague, common criminal, general scum of the Earth...take your pick at your leisure."

"Thanks, Tony," Justin replied flatly.

"It's, uh, nice to meet you too, Mr. Hammer." David was polite anyway, offering a weak little wave.

"Pleasure," he answered, even though David couldn't hear him. Any nod he gave him probably looked more like a spasmodic twitch because of the heavy helmet. But it was appreciated.

"Hey, look, David, we'll escort you to the White House. Once we get close enough I can have Jarvis call Connie."

"You finished Jarvis?" David murmured curiously, and Justin rolled his eyes.

"My pride and joy. We'll stay on top of you," Tony answered shortly.

"Right." Justin could see David nod uncertainly before they leveled up and over, keeping an even pace above the car.

"So, uh, you guys were roomies at MIT?" Justin asked.

Tony sighed. "Not really-I graduated earlier than he did. Him and Jim were friends."

"Jim...?"

"Colonel Rhodes," Tony clarified.

"The Air Force guy who repo'd your suit," Justin realized.

 _"Stole;_ it was never his to begin with," Tony corrected. "Look, Hammer, why the sudden interest in my life? I don't care half as much about you."

 _Someone's ornery._

"Just trying to build our relationship in the face of the world's impending doom."

"The relationship spot in my life's already taken," he responded tersely. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Pepper's a nice lady when she's not testifying against innocents," Justin agreed lightly. "You know, I'm not seeing much of her in the limelight, lately, though. You two fighting or something?"

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder, doesn't it? Not that you need to know or anything, but I'm trying to keep her away from me so she's not targeted again by nut-cases like _you."_

"That's idiotic," Justin advised. "All you're doing is making the job easier by not being near her."

"Noted. Please, don't give me advice. Makes my skin crawl."

"I thought you trusted me?" His glasses were slipping off his nose. "Two days ago you would have rather died than me even breathe near this jet-pack death-trap of yours."

"Yeah, well, it's not like you're going to be any more alive than the rest of us after this, so don't mistake a decision born of necessity for trust."

"Alright," Justin paused, deciding. "I don't think we need to give each other anymore advice."

* * *

 **If you feel inspired to do so, please review!**


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